Nobody told her it was time to walk away,
It crept up on her like a scary surprise.
She was not the weary kind,
Yet nothing had prepared her for the sight
Of her heart scattered on the floor
Shattered into a million pieces.
Every night she cries, she wishes, she dreams.
The worst, however, was that she still hoped
That somehow, against all odds, against all signs of impending doom,
Her love for him might prevail
Over the wicked turns of fate.
She vowed and every day renewed
Her waging war against the lines carved on her hands.
No, she was not the weary kind.
She was just a girl, battling for love,
In a world that’s forgotten to feel.
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